in the city, Aubrey found me a job where she works. Granted, it’s a (very) low-paid internship, but it’s for a publisher, and as I was a huge bookworm, growing up, working for a publisher is literally everything I’ve always dreamed of. It’s everything I gave up in favour of being what Lucas wanted me to be.
I’m on the first rung of the ladder right now, paying my dues and earning my stripes, but with a little luck and a lot of hard work, at the end of my one-year contract, I’m hoping to earn the junior editor position, which is awarded to one intern who deserves it the most. All I have to do is beat the two other girls who started the same time as me six weeks ago and prove I want it and deserve it more than them. Shouldn’t be too difficult. I’m not afraid of a little hard work or competition.
I hear my mother and Aubrey laugh in the kitchen, so I reluctantly push myself up to my feet and head out to them. My mother has taken over the kitchen. She’s heating a lasagne while my dad and Aubrey tear and share some focaccia bread, dipping it in Mamma’s homemade dressing. It smells like my childhood in here.
I smile and tear off some bread too.
Aubrey grins, her face flushed with pleasure. “Our freezer is full. It’s official; I love your mother—as if she didn’t already know.” She playfully bumps my mother’s shoulder and stuffs in another mouthful.
My mum looks up at me. “Lucie, I wanted to remind you about your father’s retirement party at our house. I know you said you would come, but I wanted to check that you haven’t changed your mind. It’s important to your father. It will look so strange if you don’t come. People will ask questions.”
Oh, there it is …
My stomach clenches. I chew slowly and nod, my eyes fixed on a drip of oil I spilt on the kitchen counter. “When is it again?” I know when it is. I’m just stalling and praying an amazing excuse will fall from the sky and hit me like a meteor—even an actual meteor would be welcomed.
“Not next Saturday, but the one after. Lucie, you have to come and show your face.” Her voice is half-pleading, half-instruction.
“Is Lucas going?” It’s not the question I want to ask. I want to ask if Lucas’s side piece is going, but I can’t.
“Yes, of course. I can’t very well uninvite the Maitlands because you two are having a blip. You never know; maybe you and he could talk some, dance, remember what you love about each other,” she says softly, her hand covering mine.
A blip.
I smile weakly, avoiding Aubrey’s hard glare; she hates that I’ve not told my parents what he did. “I’ll be there.” And I’ll be looking so drop-dead gorgeous that Lucas will fall at my feet and beg for forgiveness. If I must go, I’m going in style, and I’ll be looking a ten out of ten just to spite him.
I need a drink. I head to the fridge and pull out a bottle of wine, holding it up in offering. “Who wants one?”
“Me!” Aubrey chimes in, heading to the cupboard where we keep the glasses.
Mamma tsks her tongue. “Luciella, it’s barely three p.m.!”
I nod and wink at her. “It’s Sunday. All bets are off on Sunday. Three p.m. is wine o’clock by my count!”
three
Theo
I groan as my alarm chimes annoyingly loud next to my head. Raising a hand, I blindly slap at my bedside unit, attempting to grab my phone, my brain still in a sleep-filled haze. Finally, my fingers find it; cracking open one eye, I eventually manage to swipe the screen and dismiss the alarm. The clock numbers glare back at me: 7 a.m.
I’m so tired, I can barely lift my head. I’ve had maybe three hours of sleep. I was working in bed, so I don’t know what time I eventually drifted off, but I definitely remember seeing four a.m. and hearing the birds chirp. As I move and roll to the side, pencils and papers crunch under me, and my sketchbook falls to the floor with a thump.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and sit on the edge, contemplating my life choices. Do I really need my job? I can live off my savings for a while if I only eat supermarket brand noodles and bread …
“Ugh,” I moan, roughly scrubbing